Not Okay
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: Parker attempts to reassure Ryan about Claire's safety. Set immediately after the last scene at the FBI offices in 1x09. "You know she's going to be okay, right?" "No. She's not."


**Title**: Not Okay (1/1)

**Author**: fais2688

**Characters**: Ryan Hardy, Debra Parker

**Pairing**: Claire Matthews/Ryan Hardy

**Rating**: K

**Summary**: Parker attempts to reassure Ryan about Claire's safety. Set immediately after the last scene at the FBI offices in 1x09. "You know she's going to be okay, right?" "No. She's not."

**Author's Note**: I'm a big fan of Parker, so it was hard for me to see her get so much flack from her bosses and co-workers in the last episode. I really loved the moment at the end of the episode where Ryan reassured her that she wasn't failing at her job—it was something she really needed to hear at the time, especially from him (the guy who makes it look like she fails at her job). I like to think she repaid the favor afterwards, and tried to make him feel better when she saw he was hurting over Claire.

Please enjoy. :)

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"_**So… All that stuff Ryan was saying tonight about Claire Matthews… He's still hung up on her?"**_

"_**He loves her."**_

"_**That's just twisted."**_

—_Donovan & Parker, 1x09_

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Despite the fact that she'd already promised herself she was going to say something, Debra Parker couldn't help but hesitate as she reached up to knock on the door. She could see him through the window—he was still hunched over that laptop, watching the news reports about Claire on what seemed to be continuous loop—but she knew he hadn't seen her. She could still walk away. She could still turn around, leave him to his private anguish, and pretend that they could all get past their demons on their own.

Parker frowned at her own thoughts, shoving them out of her mind. Abandoning him now wasn't a possibility, if it even ever had been. He had given her a helping hand before, and though she knew this was entirely different, she felt she could offer the same support for him. And at the very least, she could look him in the eye and say convincingly that Claire would be fine. She rapped her knuckles against the door.

Ryan practically jumped in his seat at the sound—no doubt he'd been too far gone to register the word around him, or even remember that it existed outside of the small computer screen he revolved around—and Parker didn't miss the way his hand swiftly and instinctually reached out to slam the laptop shut before doing anything else. She couldn't help but think that he was acting more like just been caught watching porn rather than being intruded upon as he stared vacantly at all that remained to him of the woman the entire FBI now knew for certain he was in love with: an old picture on the news and a caption hinting about more deaths to come. Parker gave him a moment to compose himself, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eye sockets and then rubbed the sides of his face. She wondered if he was trying to bring feeling back to his exhausted skin or eradicate it. Finally, when he looked as ready to receive a visitor as he was ever going to be, she turned the knob and poked her head in.

"Do you mind?" she asked, propping the door open with her elbow.

He shrugged, not answering, but she took it as an invitation nonetheless. Parker entered the room slowly, taking care to fully shut the door behind herself as she stepped inside. Hardy's inner secrets and feelings had been brought to light and exploited much too often over the past few days, and there was no need for anyone to overhear this.

He stood beside the desk in silence, and it was clear from the way his lips were pressed together that he was going to wait for her to say the first word before speaking. Parker's eyes roamed over him as they stood there, facing one another in the dim and otherwise empty room. As much as it pained her to acknowledge, she couldn't ignore the fact that he looked worse than usual tonight.

While he had already looked under-slept and over-caffeinated when she'd met him, that initial and distressing first impression had only become compounded as more days passed and both the body and the follower count had increased. It seemed like, for every fugitive they let slip through their fingers, or every innocent that got in the line of fire, Hardy lost at least a year of whatever short life was left for him. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets now, his tie was loosened and askew, and his shirt was rumpled to the point where he could've been wearing it for days on end and no one would spot the difference. Parker stared at him now, and if she hadn't already spent nearly every hour a day with him for weeks now, she wasn't sure she'd recognize him as the same person. He looked half-dead.

Parker knew this wasn't the best time to talk—she knew it in her head, and she could see it in his eyes—but she also knew that she couldn't leave him alone for the night so soon after all that had happened tonight. It didn't look like he'd talked to a single person since facing off with Joe latest psych-patient-turned-devotee, and though Parker knew she, herself, wasn't who he'd pick as his first choice to chat with, she couldn't help but feel like it was her duty to help him. She'd been a boss long enough to know that keeping up morale was half of whatever battle you were engaged in. Usually it was hard for her to come up with inspiring words of wisdom, but with Hardy, this would be easy. She knew what he was worried about, whom he was pining over. She just had to say it, convince him, and get them all back on track.

She could feel him watching her, knowing he was wondering what she was going to say, so she didn't bother skating around the topic. There wasn't any time for pleasantries anymore; no time for acclimation or dipping one toe in. It was the deep end all the way, as it had been since Carroll had walked out of prison like he'd been a free man. "You know she's going to be okay, right, Ryan?" Debra Parker looked over at him as he spoke, expecting to see him turn away in embarrassment or reply with a short nod. He did neither.

"No." He shook his head once, his tired, hooded eyes boring into hers as he corrected quietly but firmly, "No, Parker. She's not going to be okay."

Parker stared at him, feeling her forehead crease immediately in both concern and confusion. How was he so hopeless already? He couldn't think like this. If he lost faith, what was to stop the others from following in his footsteps? "Ryan," she began, struggling not to falter at his abrupt answer, "Carroll—"

"He'll get her," Ryan cut in, and his voice remained surprisingly soft even though it moved through and broke apart her words as effectively as a shout would. It unnerved Parker to hear him so calmly talk like this about such a sensitive subject. Should be yelling? Crying? Throwing something? Where was the unstable and overly emotional Ryan Hardy that she'd been warned about? "It might not happen tonight, or tomorrow, or next week… But it _will_ happen." His chest heaved when he sighed, and his exhale polluted the space around them with an air of defeat so palpable it made Parker's stomach twist and her lungs constrict. "He'll get to her. Eventually."

As hard as it was to resist the urge to agree with him, Parker managed to stifle the instinct. Carroll had been one step ahead this entire time, yes, but things could still turn around. Things _were _turning around. They'd saved that girl tonight and put away two more of Carroll's accomplices. "You don't know that, Ryan," she replied forcibly, keeping their few—but nonetheless meaningful—triumphs in mind as she spoke. "And you can't give up now; you can't lose faith now. We've gotten this far—"

"—and we won't get much farther," he finished loudly, his voice overriding hers as it rose in decibel, doing so much more quickly than she'd expected. Parker swallowed, staring at him. It was coming now, she knew. She could hear the simmering rage in his tone and she knew the floodgates would burst soon. She was silently thankful of the fact that Donovan had already left to turn in for the night. Once Ryan snapped, it would most likely be impossible to contain, and Donovan didn't need yet _another_ reason to sideline the ex-agent any further. As unstable and unpredictable as he might be, he was key to all this. They couldn't communicate or negotiate with Carroll or his followers without Ryan, and Parker wasn't so sure the higher-ups within the Bureau necessarily understood that. Without Ryan, it would just be indiscriminate slaughter. But with him, they might have a chance—like they'd had tonight—of saving some of these people.

"He's going to find her," Ryan continued, and Parker listened with rapt and nervous attention as his tone seemed to level out instead of rising to a shout. She could hear it in his voice—the strain he was putting on himself by trying to speak with as little emotion as possible sounded almost painful. "He's going to find her and take her and then—" he broke off, seeming to have to take a moment to compose himself before finishing in a significantly rougher voice "—he'll make me watch as he tortures her." Parker stared at him, speechless, as she attempted to digest what he was saying, to view the macabre picture he was painting. "_Just_ so I know it's my fault. _Just_ so I know I could've prevented it if I'd only gotten there sooner, or stayed with her longer, or…" He trailed off, appearing not to have anything else to say.

"That's…" Parker shook her head, not able to think of the right word to describe what she—unfortunately—had to admit was a very real potential outcome of this sick cat-and-mouse game. _That's not going to happen, _she wanted to say. _That's not possible_. But they both knew it was possible; they both knew it could happen. Anything she said that attempted to pretend the opposite would just an inconsiderate, and even insulting, lie. She swallowed, biting her tongue as she attempted to find a way to console the inconsolable. "That's…"

"Twisted?" Ryan offered, his eyes finding hers as his mouth curled up into a dark perversion of a smile. His specific word choice was enough for her to deduce what he was alluding to, and the joyless smirk that warped his usually stoic face only confirmed her suspicion. She hung her head for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut as an exhausted sigh escaped her body. The last thing Hardy had needed to hear tonight was her and Donovan's conversation.

"I'm sorry about that, Hardy," she apologized quietly, not seeing any worth in pretending not to understand his veiled accusation. "You know Donovan—"

"You don't need to explain Nick Donovan to me," Ryan interrupted, holding up his hands to fend her off as she stepped forward to speak. He sniffed, scowling as he rubbed his nose. "I get it."

Parker watched as he looked to the floor, and felt the concern she had for Hardy's current state of being nudge her conscience back into overdrive. She knew she should say something to comfort him, but she had no idea what to say. She and Hardy had been working together for what felt like months, but in reality, she knew it had only been a couple of weeks, at most. That was nowhere near enough time to get to know someone well enough to console them when they were at their worst, and as Debra Parker stood, staring at him helplessly, she wondered what exactly it had been that she'd wanted to accomplish when she'd walked in here. What had she presumed she'd be able to do for him? Comfort him over his lost love? Tell him that they were all going to get out of this alive and intact? The most she'd succeeded in so far was making his already-terrible life worse. She tried not to remember how honest and genuine he'd sounded earlier, when he'd been kind enough to tell her she wasn't a failure. She so wished that evaluation held true now.

"I know what it must look like to all of you," Ryan muttered in the silence, his eyes still on the floor. "Claire and I," he added softly, letting out a weak, derisive chuckle that Parker knew was aimed at himself. "It must seem so…"

Parker shook her head, her lips pressing together in sympathy even though she knew he wasn't looking at her. "None of us have any right to judge, Ryan," she informed him at once.

"Ha!" The brief laugh erupted out of Hardy's previously still body, and Parker couldn't help but jump at the sound. "No right?" He repeated, sounding almost gleeful in incredulity as his head snapped up to look at her. "Really? When has lack of right _ever _stopped a person from judging another? Especially me, especially here?"

"Ryan…" Parker sighed, moving to lean against a nearby cabinet. She had a feeling she might be here for a while yet. "Hardy, I was just trying to say that the way you are being perceived by the agents isn't the sort of thing you need to focus on right now."

He stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. "Yeah. You're right." He scratched the back of his head as he caught her eye. "I guess I should be contemplating how to catch a twice-escaped serial killer and his untraceable, innumerable band of followers before they slaughter even more innocents, huh? That'd be a better use of my precious time, wouldn't it?"

Parker crossed her arms, hanging her head as she dug the toe of her shoe into the floor. "Look," she muttered, lifting her head to find he hadn't moved a muscle. "I just want you to leave Claire to the federal marshals, all right? You have other things to worry about and Hardy—" she broke off, sighing shortly in exasperation "_I promise_ they'll take care of her, okay?"

"Oh?" Ryan wondered lightly, tilting his head to the side in polite interest. "They'll take care of her? Really?" She watched his blue eyes narrow accusatorially as he wondered, his voice no longer cheerful, "You mean like they took care of Joey?" His voice lowered into a growl. "Like they took care of Sarah Fuller?"

"Ryan—"

He shook his head, turning away and waving a hand to dismiss her. "Just stop it, will you?" She listened to him sigh heavily as he stood with his back to her, but she didn't step away. She could've left before and she didn't. Now that she was here, she wasn't going to leave him; not now and not like this. "We don't need to go through this again," he muttered, barely loud enough for Parker to hear him across the silent room. "You get yelled at enough." His voice was so quiet when he next spoke, and his words so self-reprimanding, that she wasn't even sure she was supposed to hear him when he said, "And I don't need to add to it."

Parker shifted her weight, surveying him as he stood in what looked like a very uncomfortable position: half straight up and half bent over. Like he so often seemed to, she guessed he was punishing himself yet again for some past mistake. Unlike all the other times she'd seen him like this, though, she didn't have to waste time wondering about who or what he was worrying over. She—as well as the entire team that had been at the festival scene earlier—had gotten more than enough insight into the inner workings of Ryan Hardy to be able to puzzle out the now-simple riddle of all that plagued him.

Parker cleared her throat, calling out to him softly in the stillness of the room when she could no longer hold in her curiosity or bear the silence. "Did you ever tell her?"

Ryan turned around reluctantly, his back straightening as he glanced over at her. "Tell her what?" he asked slowly, and she could tell by the confused look in his eyes that he had been a million miles away when she'd asked the question.

She couldn't help but offer him a small smile as she clarified: "That you loved her."

Ryan blinked, staring at her in a rare moment of genuine bewilderment that Parker didn't think he'd ever shown before. Once again, she had to remind herself that she really hadn't known him very long.

"Or…" Parker inclined her head towards him, remembering how he hadn't used the past tense with Amanda. _Because I love her. Because I still love her. And I can't un-love her. _"That you still do, I guess."

He was shaking his head before she'd even finished speaking. "No," he murmured, and his voice sounded as tired as he looked. "I never told her."

Parker surveyed him, trying to decide at which moment she will have pried too much. She decided that she seemed to be on okay ground for now. No doubt Ryan would tell her to back off once she crossed the line, or at the very least, clam up to let her know. "Can… Can I ask why not? Just because…" She shrugged, lifting her hands in a gesture of ignorance. She couldn't understand how he and Claire had gotten to where they were. After spending the last few weeks in very close proximity with the both of them, it had quickly become very obvious that whatever feelings they'd had for each other so long ago hadn't diminished over the years. She hadn't needed to hear Hardy admit it out loud tonight to know that he was still in love with Joe Carroll's ex, and, staring at him, she wondered how it was that _he_ apparently needed to hear it aloud from Claire Matthews herself to even contemplate the possibility that she felt something for him, too. Wasn't it obvious to him in the way she acted that she still loved him—or, at the very least, still cared about him very deeply?

Hardy shrugged, barely lifting his head high enough to even look at her shoes. "There was never a good time."

"And now?"

Ryan actually raised his head as he replied this time, smirking as he mocked her suggestion. "You're telling me _now _is a good time? After Amanda killed those two women just because they shared Claire's name? With Joe on the loose—"

"Well, I don't mean _right now_," Parker cut in, unable to keep her voice from snapping in impatience. "I just…" She sighed, sobering as she said, "Look, I've known for weeks now that something's been eating at you. I thought it was just Carroll, escaping and toying with you like he does, so I let it go. And then when everything started happening, I assumed it was Sarah… And then Joey at the farmhouse…" Parker sighed, shaking her head. "It's been _Claire_ this _whole_ time, Ryan?" She threw up her hands, unable to coddle him anymore. "Jesus, just_ talk to her._"

He shook his head, turning away again, and if Parker had been closer, she would've grabbed his arm and made him face her. Watching him put his back to her, she figured she was probably getting a small taste of what Claire had probably gone through all those years ago, and she didn't blame the woman for her current shortness of temper with the ex-agent. If this is what it took just get him to talk _about _his feelings for Claire without her even being involved, Parker didn't even wanted to know how much effort had been expelled on Ms. Matthews part all those years ago to get him to open up while their romantic relationship was still intact.

Then again, she reflected, Hardy had been different back then—or at least, she hoped he had been. Maybe he'd talked to her freely. Maybe he'd been patient and nice and caring. Maybe he'd been happy.

Maybe he'd been an entirely different person.

"It's not that simple," he muttered finally, turning halfway towards her to meet her eye.

"You told Amanda that you loved her," Parker pointed out, not bothering to spare Hardy's feelings or embarrassment anymore. He needed to face this if he was going to be able to focus, and she _needed_ him to focus. They couldn't go forward without him. "It didn't seem too complicated then."

"I was trying to distract her," Ryan muttered dismissively, but Parker could hear the way the words tore at him as they came out, just the way his confession to Amanda had less than an hour ago.

"By telling the truth."

Ryan didn't reply, and Parker had had enough trying to weasel some semblance of a response out of him. "If you've been carrying a torch for her all these years, why haven't you bothered to say a word to her? Huh?" she pressed angrily when he turned his back on her again. "Come on, Ryan, you can't just ignore this. I'm not letting you ignore it; it's too important."

She could see him shaking his head, bringing his hands up to cup his face. "It's nothing," he said into his palms.

"That's an absolute lie," Parker countered fiercely, sick of playing nice now.

"So?" he demanded to know, his voice suddenly filling the room as he whirled around to face her. "What do you care? What does it matter to _you _whether or not I speak with Claire?"

"It matters because I need you _here, _Hardy," Parker implored, stepping towards him and gesturing at the floor beneath them to prove her point. "I need you here with the rest of us! I can't have you thinking about what was or what could've been with her; I need you to be focused _right here _and _right now _with the rest of the agents. I need your mind on Carroll, _not_ on his ex-wife."

"I never said I thought of her over Joe," Hardy snapped.

Parker snorted, shaking her head. "Oh, Ryan, please," she muttered, knowing the annoyance she felt was clearly audible in her tone now but not caring. She didn't have the self-control to hide it anymore, nor the patience or will to apologize for it. "You don't need to say it for it to be true."

"I—" Ryan broke off suddenly, and Parker opened her eyes, intrigued by the rapid change in his tone. Her gaze flickered across his face worriedly as she wondered what he might say next. "I just need to know that she's safe," he admitted finally. Ryan's eyes found hers, his expression practically pleading with her now, "Will you make sure she's safe for me?"

Parker deliberated over his request for a few seconds before finally giving in with a nod. "Yeah," she replied quietly. "I'll make sure."

For one of the very few times tonight, Ryan's eyes stayed locked on hers as he murmured, "Thank you," in a low voice.

Parker stepped back then, knowing she'd get nothing more out of him, and certain this was her cue to leave. She was almost to the door before her conscience, that bothersome goody-goody voice in her head, made itself heard again. "Hardy?" As she turned around, she caught him doing the same. Somehow, he looked even more tired now than he had when she'd walked in just ten minutes ago. "I know you think it's not a good time for you two, and you're right, you are, but…" She shrugged, smiling faintly. "Chances are, there never will be a good time. But if you still care for her after all these years, if it still tears at you like that to hold it in… You should just say it. Just tell her." She lifted her hands as she shrugged again. "Who knows? Maybe she's still in love with you, too. Maybe she's just waiting for you to break the ice."

The look on Hardy's face told Parker in no uncertain terms that he found her to be completely off base. She gave him a second to digest her words, to really see what she was saying… But his incredulous expression never faded. Finally, realizing her efforts here were as futile as all the others, she turned to go. Parker had only taken a step and a half towards the door by the time he spoke up.

"I doubt it."

She stopped for a moment, standing completely still. She wondered, just before turning to face him, if she'd imagined what he'd said. When she looked him in the eye and he repeated his words, she knew she hadn't.

"If she loved me, I'd know," he explained softly. "It wouldn't be something I'd have to search for." He swallowed, looking to the side for a moment. "She isn't the type to waste time hiding her feelings or holding them in."

Parker nodded along, absorbing this and giving him a moment with those statements he believed to be truths before voicing her own. "Look…," she began slowly, folding her arms across her chest. "Hardy, I've been here for a while now, and I've seen you two together." She paused, making sure she had his attention before continuing. "She takes any and every opportunity to be near you—to hug you, to hold your hand. She—"

"That's because I make her feel safe," Ryan interrupted quietly. He looked Parker in the eye, not blinking as he informed her: "And trust me, that does not mean she loves me."

Though Parker's first instinct was to contest his words, she didn't bother going through with it. She knew this was an argument she'd never win. She offered him a small, sad smile before walking to the door. "Regardless of whatever you might think she does or does not feel for you…" She glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye as she rested her hand on the doorknob. "_You_ feel something for her. You feel—" she couldn't help but chuckle softly "—a hell of a lot for her. And you should let her know that," she added, holding his gaze, "before it's too late."

She left without another word, not waiting around to hear his answer or waste precious time and energy trying to coax it out of him. It was late, she was tired, and if Hardy felt like being uncooperative and single-minded, then her work here had been finished before she'd even started. She exhaled slowly as she pulled the door shut, leaning against it a moment. She already knew she couldn't say anything to Donovan about this, but it didn't matter—he'd find out anyway, the next time Claire was dragged into the middle of things and Hardy flew off the handle. Parker squeezed her eyes shut, groaning softly into her hands as she pressed them to her face. It seemed like every single day, something that she thought couldn't get any worse only _got _worse and now, with the center of the investigation moving to DC, she had even less power to make things better. Here with Hardy, with his constant obstinacy towards authority and that sick martyr act he seemed fond of playing with every one of Joe's followers he came across, Parker felt like she had no power at all.

She stepped away from the door, letting her hands fall to her sides. She was just turning down the hall—headed to her rental car and her rented bed—when she happened to glance over to her left. She couldn't help but sigh, stopping where she was, and just taking a moment to stare. She wanted to run back in and yell at him. She wanted to dial the phone to Marshal Turner so Hardy could speak to Claire; hell, she wanted to put Hardy in the car and drive him up to whenever they were keeping her, just so they could get this all out in the open and over with.

But then a second passed, and then another, and Parker knew none of that was possible. Keeping Claire safe and hidden was more important than catering to Hardy's bruised and remarkably tender emotional wellbeing. And going back in there and yelling at him about things he was unable or unwilling to change wouldn't help, either. As she stared at him, hunched over that computer again, she couldn't help but think that maybe she wasn't the only one that felt completely powerless most of the time.

After a moment, she bowed her head, averted her eyes, and went on her way. It was clear Hardy wanted to be left alone with his demons tonight, even if he knew he couldn't get past them by himself. Parker understood what it was like to torture oneself about one's past, and sometimes, while it wasn't a healthy option, it was the only one that seemed like it could do any good.

Hours later, as she laid on her hard-as-concrete hotel bed and stared up at the ceiling above her in silence, she couldn't help but wonder if Hardy had returned to his room yet, and if he'd managed to fall asleep. She doubted it. She still couldn't get the image of him hunched over that laptop, the blue light from the news banner and Claire's shirt shining on his face, and she couldn't help but think that somehow he was still there, in that little office, staring mutely at what he'd lost and felt he could never get back like it was a salve and not a poison to his wounds.

Debra Parker sighed, feeling both thankful and disappointed in equal measure that she'd never felt such intense emotion for another person as it seemed Hardy felt for Claire. It must be torture, she thought, to feel so strongly for a person and yet not feel able to do anything about it. Hell, she'd seen it on Hardy's face and heard it in his voice; it _was _torture. But then… It had to have been bliss as well, at least for a certain amount of time. For their interactions to be so miserable and painful now, things _had _to have been unimaginably joyful before. Parker closed her eyes, trying to imagine it… But it was impossible. She could no more picture Ryan and Claire happy together than she could Carroll and his ex-wife.

Maybe, she mused as sleep crept up on her, if they all managed to survive this, she could pull Hardy aside after it was all over and ask, once and for all: was it all really worth it?

Would the happiness he'd once felt with her ever, at any point, outweigh the heartbreak and violence it caused?

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"_Because I love her. Because I still love her. And I can't un-love her."_

—_Ryan Hardy, 1x09_

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**Author's Note:** I really don't know how I feel about this ending. I don't think I like it very much, but I couldn't find a better way to end the piece. Your feedback in a review on the ending and the piece as a whole would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you so much for reading. Comments are very welcome. :)


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